They had started calling her that as a joke.
“Your human,” Lo’ak would tease, tail flicking.
Neteyam never corrected him.
Because she was.
Not in ownership. Not in possession.
But in closeness.
She stood now beside Norm’s lab table, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration as holographic readings flickered across the screens. Human body small. Fragile. So breakable in ways that still made something tight coil in Neteyam’s chest.
He leaned against the wall near her, pretending not to hover.
He failed.
His fingers brushed her shoulder absently as he passed. His hand rested briefly at the small of her back when she shifted positions. His tail curled loosely near her leg without him even noticing.
Touch was natural to him. Reassurance. Connection.
She had learned not to startle when he did it.
“Neteyam,” she laughed softly without looking away from her work, “if you stand any closer, you’re going to block the scanner.”
“I am not,” he replied automatically — while absolutely standing too close.
Norm glanced between them with an amused look.
“Relax, kid. It’s almost ready.”
That was all Neteyam needed to hear.
Almost ready.
His gaze snapped to the adjacent room — separated by thick glass — where the Avatar lay suspended in the link chamber.
Her Avatar.
Tall. Strong. Blue.
Perfect.
He had seen it before, of course. Watched it grow in the tank over the past months. But every time he looked at it, something electric sparked through him.
Soon she would not need a mask in the forest. Soon she would not struggle to keep up. Soon she would feel the wind properly, breathe deeply without filtered air.
Soon she would run beside him.
“She will be taller than me,” she murmured teasingly, finally glancing at him.
He straightened immediately. “No.”
Norm snorted.
“She’s going to be very tall,” the scientist confirmed.
Neteyam stepped closer to the glass, staring at the Avatar’s resting form. He imagined her inside it — her laughter with a deeper resonance, her hands glowing faintly under Pandora’s night.
“You will be strong,” he said quietly, more to her than anyone else. “You will not tire so easily.”
She watched him carefully.
“I’m still me, you know.”
He turned sharply at that, stepping back toward her.
“I know,” he said firmly.
His hand came up instinctively, cupping her jaw gently — mindful of how much stronger he was. His thumb brushed her cheekbone with reverence.
“You are strong now. Strong here.” He tapped lightly over her heart.
“And here,” he added, touching her forehead.
“But when you are in that body…” His voice softened, excitement breaking through his usual composure. “You will see what I see. You will feel Eywa the way we do. You will understand everything I try to explain.”
Her breath caught at his intensity.
He rarely let himself show this much emotion in front of others. The responsible eldest son. The warrior.
But with her, it spilled out.
“I want to show you everything,” he admitted. “The cliffs at sunrise. The glowing caves near the river bend. I want to race you through the trees and not have to slow down.”
Norm quietly busied himself with equipment, pretending not to hear.
She smiled up at him — that soft human smile that had undone him from the beginning.
“And you’ll still hover over me?” she teased.
His ears flicked back in mock offense.
“I do not hover.”
“You absolutely hover.”
His tail wrapped loosely around her calf in silent contradiction.
He leaned his forehead gently against hers — a human gesture he had learned for her.
“You are my human,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “But soon… you will be more.”
Her Avatar’s vitals flickered to life behind the glass as systems powered up.
Neteyam’s eyes lit with pure, unguarded excitement.
“Hurry,” he whispered — not impatient, but eager. “I am ready to meet you again.”